"How long do you think you will be able to keep up this life?" I asked her.
"Oh, four or five years, I guess," she answered between puffs of a cigarette she was smoking.
"What are you going to do then?"
"I'm not thinking about that time," she said.
"When I get worn out and they tell me they don't want me here any more, I'll go somewhere—I'm not worrying where.
"I'd quit now, but what's the use? If I left here every one would be kicking me down in the gutter. Now suppose I wanted to be good, would mothers you know want their nice, innocent daughters associating with me? No, you know they wouldn't. It would be only a couple of weeks and then I'd be back again."
"Have any of the girls in this place saved money except you?" was asked.
"There isn't a girl in the place who has ten dollars to her name except me," was the answer.
"How long have the majority of them been leading this life?"